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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079630">surrender to the sound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellodrama/pseuds/mellodrama'>mellodrama</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (Spain)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexuality, Character Study, Coming Out, F/F, Feminism, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Internalized Homophobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:47:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellodrama/pseuds/mellodrama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora knows what bisexuality is. Cris coming out, calling herself that — it's not a completely new concept. She's fairly well-versed on LGBT issues: she'd only signed that petition to ban conversion therapy just last week, and she saves stuff about intersectionality on Instagram, like, all the time. If anyone asked if she was an ally, she'd happily say yes.</p><p>Nobody ever asks her if she's straight. They don't need to. They already know.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nora Grace/Eva Vázquez Villanueva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>surrender to the sound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i know norandro are the superior noorhelm BUT i love that nora's happy ending in s3 was the girl squad, and i kinda wish she'd fallen in love with one of them instead. so here's this, a very belated fic for #biskamweek on tumblr. it's a different style than i usually write, it's a lot more fragmented and i play around with the timeline, but i hope you enjoy anyways.</p><p>warning for: mentions of abusive relationships; misogyny; internalized bi/homophobia, and a lesbophobic slur.</p><p>title from the song "motion sickness" by phoebe bridgers, which i realized yesterday fits nora's post-miquel mindset.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>"Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone.<br/>It has to be made, like bread:<br/>Remade all the time, made new."</p><p>- Ursula K. Le Guin, <em>The Lathe of Heaven</em></p><p> </p><p>Emma technically introduces her to the concept of feminism, although Nora doesn't realize this until much, much later.</p><p>She first hears the word when she's twelve. The boys at school seem torn between running away from the girls to avoid catching cooties, and running directly towards them, full of offers to go to the movies together after class and gifting them flowers ripped straight out of their mother's prize rose bush.</p><p>The one thing both sides have in common — other than a shared love of body spray — is a distaste for outspoken women. Strong women. Proud women. <em>Don't be such a feminist</em>, sneers Brett from Literature when they're discussing Louisa May Alcott, and Nora doesn't have to know what it means to know that she should be ashamed, that her points are all wrong. Nerdy, kind Thomas, who carries her books sometimes and sits at her left, quietly nods along to Brett's scoffing tirade. Nora doesn't raise her hand in class for another week.</p><p>By the time she's sitting on a plane soaring to Madrid, Nora's long since learned to stand tall in the face of fuckboys and softboys alike, but a sliver of shame still lingers in her gut when she thinks about being the <em>wrong </em>sort of woman. When those thoughts arise, she presses her lips together, painted red, and thinks: <em>I still have this. I will always have this.<br/><br/></em></p><hr/><p><br/>And then, of course, she doesn't.</p><p>Miquel promises that he'll change, he'll get better. He knows he can do it, he can become the boyfriend she deserves — he just needs her by his side first, and then everything will be perfect. They'll be happy. Again.</p><p>Nora doesn't know if they ever were.</p><p>It'd be so easy to give in and say yes. She almost does. Again. </p><p>His jaw trembles as he talks. His eyes are desperate, wild. Nora presses her lips together, but they're chapped: she scrubbed all of her makeup off earlier, bringing with it a strange and unfamiliar sense of relief, but also fear.</p><p>An evening breeze picks up, loose strands of her hair fluttering. She hasn't dragged a brush through it in hours, and it's probably the greasiest it's been in a long time. When she went off at Alejandro for how he treated Viri, she felt strong and brave.<em> Put together.</em> She didn't care if he or any of the other guys she's yelled at over the years smirked in response, because why would anything they believe matter when Nora stands here, strong and brave and <em>feminine?</em></p><p>Eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, the posters and stickers and activists all say, and Nora's mouth is a cherry bomb ready to blow.</p><p>She smears her red lipstick on, and she knows who she is.</p><p>Miquel starts gesticulating with his hands. He sounds choked up. When she leaves him on the street corner, he doesn't follow after her.</p><p>She wishes he had, if only to prove that she's still desirable like this.<br/><em><br/></em></p><hr/><p><br/>When Lucas came out, Nora was happy. Despite the attack, he practically glows with the truth. He wears earrings now, paints his nails bright colors, and looks at home in his own body.</p><p>When Cris came out, Nora was - well, she was happy. What sort of feminist would she be if she were homophobic? If she treated her straight friends better than her gay ones?</p><p>Besides, anybody can see how Joana brings out the best in Cris, how vibrant and alive she becomes when they're together. Nora loves Cris, and she loves that Cris is happy, so Nora's happy too. She's happy for all of her friends when they begin a new relationship or rekindle an old one, provided that it's healthy. </p><p>(She's also happy that Eva remains perpetually single. She ignores how inevitable it feels that Eva and Jorge will once again become Eva-and-Jorge. She doesn't know why it bothers her.)</p><p>(She tells herself it's because they're <em>Eva and Nora</em>, bros before hoes forever. Cris has Joana, Viri has Hugo, Amira has Dani, and Nora and Eva have each other, as they always do.)</p><p>One of her best friends is bisexual, another one gay. That's perfectly fine. Great, even, because Nora is straight. She likes boys, men. She likes the strength of their arms when they wrap around her. She likes their cologne - so much better than the juvenile body spray of the boys from middle school, and she likes how that makes her feel, too: grown-up, established, <em>adult</em>.</p><p>She likes men.</p><p>She likes — <br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>It would be so much easier to hate Jorge if he had ever given her any reason to. If he wasn't so <em>nice.</em></p><p>But Nora is practical. That's her thing. <em>Black and white, good or bad </em>and Jorge definitely fits into only one category.</p><p>So does she.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>When Cris came out, Nora was, for one long second, quietly devastated. </p><p>She'd never make that known, of course. She smiled, enveloped Cris in a huge hug. She asked Joana lots of friendly questions. The Coming Out Party was a success, all things considered, and when Nora sang, she kept her eyes firmly on Alejandro.</p><p>Lucas being gay — that she could handle. It didn't effect her, really, except when she'd inquire about his love life, and made sure to use different pronouns than she would with Dilan.</p><p>Cris being bisexual is — <br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>It takes a long time to understand why Emma never went to the police. </p><p>It's not until something similar happens to her, that she does.</p><p>The first time she hears the word feminism, she's twelve. The first time she feels like she has no place in it, she's sixteen.</p><p>Miquel is gone for good. Emma's gone too, flown back to the States, but they make it a point to Skype more often now.</p><p>Her sister laughs, retelling some story about a colleague. Her face is grainy through the laptop screen, but Nora sees her sister, as clear as ever.</p><p>When she looks at her own face in the corner, she doesn't recognize the girl staring back.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Nora knows what bisexuality is. Cris coming out, calling herself that — it's not a completely new concept. She's fairly well-versed on LGBT issues: she'd only signed that petition to ban conversion therapy just last week, and she saves stuff about intersectionality on Instagram, like, all the time. She'd even been the one to bring up pansexuality when the girls discussed labels. If anyone asked if she was an ally, she'd say <em>yes</em>, happily so.</p><p>Nobody ever asks her if she's straight. They don't need to. They already know.</p><p>She likes men. She likes boys.</p><p>She likes — <br/> </p><hr/><p><br/>Lucas invites Cris onto his YouTube channel. They have a joke, Nora and Lucas, about being <em>influencers</em>. They 'compete' for subscribers, watch their numbers grow and tease the other about selling out, about getting a sponsorship deal.</p><p>His video with Cris goes viral. The Internet, it seems, is very interested in the realities of being a bisexual teen girl in Spain.</p><p>"Shit, you should've brought her onto yours," Eva says, scrolling through the comments under the video. She's read out a few, mostly the supportive ones, people thanking Lucas and Cris for their honesty. Crediting them as the reason they've come out to their own families. </p><p>"Girl, I can't sing," Cris laughs, and Nora thinks that's the end of it as everyone else joins in. </p><p>Viri shakes her head once the laughter subsides. "I don't know, maybe you could do a video about feminism? Straight girls and bi girls," she suggests, and Amira nods approvingly.</p><p>"That video I did with Lucas about Islam was really helpful to both of us."</p><p>Cris waves a hand. "Aye, but what do I know about feminism compared to Nora? What does Nora know about...you know." She makes an obscene gesture with her fingers, and Nora feels her cheeks flush.</p><p>Amira smacks Cris on the shoulder. "She doesn't need to! That's the point. You discuss your experiences, how they're the same and different."</p><p>"Okay, okay, okay," Cris says defensively, raising her hands in mock surrender, but the conversation dies when Inés walks past, inquiring about a party.</p><p>Same. Different. </p><p>Different. Same.</p><p>She and Cris — they're the same, Nora's beginning to think. It's getting harder to deny that these days. When she spends hours on the beauty guru side of YouTube, hypnotized by the dolled up women, she's not just looking at those videos for makeup tips. When she bumps into a girl at the club, and the girl grabs her hips and tries to dance with her, and Nora clams up, dashing back to her friends - it's not just because the girl is a stranger.</p><p>But they're different too, because she's not dating a girl, not like Cris is. And so why make a big deal out of things, if she has nothing important like that to announce? </p><p>Inés leaves after kissing everyone on the cheek, snapping Nora out of her thoughts. She mutters a polite goodbye, and nobody seems to have noticed how absent she's been for the last few minutes.</p><p>Nobody, except Eva. </p><p>When Nora looks up, Eva's looking right back. Cris starts teasing Viri about Hugo, and Amira starts chastising Cris (again), and they all fade away, until only she and Eva remain.</p><p>It's like that sometimes.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>She likes boys. She likes men.</p><p>Eva is neither of those.</p><p>So she can't really like Eva.</p><p>Which is fine, because nothing with Eva will ever happen anyways.</p><p>And because Nora is <em>straight, </em>okay?</p><p>She likes — <br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>When Brett from Literature sneered about feminism, Nora had looked up the word online that afternoon. She did this anytime she encountered a word she didn't recognize: it was part of being distinguished and intelligent, you see. You have to keep learning, even after you've graduated school. You never stop absorbing new information, because information itself will always be evolving. </p><p>(Even when you thought you knew everything about the world, and yourself.)</p><p>Which was good, because that was part of being a feminist, too. A lifelong commitment to changing the world and ensuring there's equality for all. Your race, your gender, your age, your sexuality. It didn't matter, because <em>everyone</em> mattered. Everyone belongs. You're alive, so you're worth something.</p><p>Miquel leaves, and for the first time, Nora questions whether that's actually true.</p><p>
  <em>(Well, I'm telling you. If Viri is Mallorca, you are — )</em>
</p><p>She's not sure if she matters. If she's worth something. Not after he's touched her, tainted her. Left fingerprints behind. Collected images, both in his phone and in his mind. She can sue him, get the courts to forcibly delete the pictures, but there's no way to erase the ones he'll always have stored up in his brain.</p><p>It makes her want to scream.</p><p>(She doesn't. <em>Don't be such a feminist. </em>She can't. <em>Ugh, my ex was a crazy bitch</em>.)</p><p>Two days after they break-up for the final time, Nora goes to put her lipstick on. <em>Goes</em> is the operative word, because it barely touches her lips before she feels hot tears beginning to well up behind her eyes. The tube clatters loudly in the sink when she drops it, cracking the case. </p><p>She grabs the red stick, smashing it between her hands. She smears her waxy fingertips against the mirror, writing words she doesn't know, doesn't recognize anymore.</p><p>Words in Spanish that might as well be from an entirely different language. They look like they're written in blood, her bathroom a crime scene from one of those shows she never thought her life would replicate.</p><p>
  <em>(you are — )</em>
</p><p>Nora Grace, The <em>Feminist</em>.</p><p>Nora Grace, The <em>Victim</em>.</p><p>It takes another month before she can scream. It takes longer to reconcile both of those labels as hers, realize they're not mutually exclusive.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Cris buys her a new tube of lipstick later, when Nora makes an off-handed comment about losing hers. Cris had asked why she wasn't wearing any, and it was the first excuse she could think of.</p><p>"It's not your old color, but it'll suit you just fine. You'll look fantastic," Cris says, miming a chef's kiss before pressing the small package into her hands.</p><p>"Hot as hell," Joana agrees. Nora stuffs it into her purse, thanks them both.</p><p>
  <em>(you are — )</em>
</p><p>"Beautiful," Eva whispers against the shell of Nora's ear. They're hugging, the squad leaving to go study, but Eva lingers behind. Nora shivers, and holds Eva closer. Her nails aren't sharp enough to kill a man, but they could probably cut through Eva's sweater with how tight her grip is.</p><p>She'd feel guilty about it maybe, if Eva wasn't holding her back just as tightly, if not more.</p><p>"Even like this?" Nora asks miserably.</p><p>"Like what?" Eva asks, the words reverberating across Nora's neck, dancing down her spine.</p><p>They don't let go.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>When twelve year old Nora typed the word 'feminism' into Google, here's what she found:<br/><br/></p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>25 Feminist Inspired Makeup Looks To Slay This Summer!</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>INSANE FEMINIST GETS TRIGGERED AT PROTEST!? NOT CLICKBAIT</strong>
</p><p><em>lmao @moonlesbian feminism isnt about hating men, its about equality. were not all ugly hairy dykes like you</em> 💁 [09:34 AM]</p><p><br/>It doesn't take long for a picture to form.</p><p>Nora borrows some money from her mother to go shopping that weekend.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Sixteen year old Nora doesn't type the word 'bisexuality' into Google. She already knows what she'll find.</p><p>She watches the infamous video instead. Cris and Lucas, sitting on his bedroom floor, all bright smiles and informative questions. The pride flag hangs in the background. </p><p><em>Having the bisexual label</em>, she says, <em>has helped me feel like I'm not alone.</em></p><p><em>And when it comes to sexual preferences, </em>he prompts, <em>do you think, 'oh, I might like this gender more than this one?'</em></p><p><em>In sexual attraction,</em> she replies, her words sure and true, <em>I don't see a difference. I fall for people.</em></p><p>Nora closes her laptop, plunging her room back into darkness. It's after midnight. She can't sleep.</p><p>"I like boys," she whispers. "I like girls. I like people."</p><p>The words feel sure and true, even if she doesn't think they sound that way. Yet.</p><p>Her phone buzzes on the nightstand, a beacon of light. </p><p><strong>From:</strong> Eva 🍕 <strong>[12:41 AM]</strong></p><p>
  <em>have you seen ramon's insta story??</em>
</p><p>
  <em>shit sorry</em>
</p><p>
  <em>it's so late!!!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>was just thinking of you :)<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>"I like <em>a</em> girl," she mouths.</p><p>The text goes unanswered - it's too much for a night already filled with confession and revelation — but when she sees Eva the next day, Nora pulls her into a hug that almost has them stumbling backwards.</p><p>"What was that for?" Eva questions, but she doesn't sound mad. Her smile is soft. It's the specific smile she usually reserves for Nora and Nora alone.</p><p>"No reason," Nora says. "Was just thinking of you." The <em>Like I always am</em> goes unspoken, but based on the way Eva's smile grows wider, somehow even softer, Nora likes to think she heard it anyways.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>The thing is: the girls, they're all touchy. Nora suspects that's just how girls are with each other in general, but <em>her </em>girls go the extra mile. Cheek kisses, arms slung around shoulders, nose rubs. They do it all, and they do it <em>often.</em></p><p>So often, that she no longer feels guilty for doing it herself. She used to, back in America, where the girls she befriended were kinda weird about that sort of stuff. You could kiss another girl, but only if a) guys were around, b) you were drunk, or c) both.</p><p>If none of those factors applied, then you could only get away with it if you were super popular, which usually also meant being super mean.</p><p>And Nora wasn't mean, so she wasn't popular, so she never kissed her friends, even when she was near cute guys at parties.</p><p>(She never got drunk.)</p><p>But here in Madrid, she can announce she's got a test tomorrow and will automatically be covered in kisses and hugs and head-pats before she hears a chorus of "good luck Nora!"</p><p>When Cris organized the Iftar for Amira last Ramadan, Nora stood next to Eva as they watched the sunset. She could hear what Cris was saying, even though the words were probably meant to be for Amira's ears only, and she'd gripped Eva's waist tighter. They'd leaned in and bumped their noses, sharing a secret smile, and Nora thought that if nobody else had been there, she would've leaned in further and kissed Eva.</p><p>
  <em>A whole life together, and everything still to come.</em>
</p><p>One year later and she thinks about those words often.</p><p>She hasn't known Eva her whole life, not like Cris and Amira have. They don't have the type of intimacy that inherently comes with growing up together, of witnessing every single one of someone's firsts. Of experiencing those firsts together.</p><p>But the other thing is: she still feels like they do.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Dating Alejandro and Miquel felt new and exciting. That's essentially where all similarities between those two begin and end, and Nora is grateful for that. Alejandro is sweet, and gentle, and pushes Nora to think outside of her black-and-white box. Miquel was abusive, and toxic, and Nora never wants to see him again in her life.</p><p>"You don't have to," Eva says matter-of-factly at a sleepover one night, when Nora confesses all of this.</p><p>"He still lives in Madrid. I could run into him one day."</p><p>"And if you do," Eva starts, turning to face Nora. They're lying under Nora's covers. Usually girl squad sleepovers take place on the floor, but Nora had patted her sheets, silently inviting Eva in. "Then I'll take care of him."</p><p>She says it so simply, like it's an easy thing: <em>You see Miquel, and I'll kill him.</em></p><p>Obviously, that's not going to happen, and Nora knows she's just saying it to keep the conversation light. (They'd also binge-watched <em>The Sopranos</em> earlier, so Eva's probably channeling her inner Italian mob boss too.)</p><p>But something fundamental about it still rings true: If Nora is hurt, then Eva will be there to help her patch herself back up. </p><p>She won't fix Nora, but she'll hold her hand, kiss her cheek, and remind her how strong she is. </p><p>And when Nora isn't feeling particularly strong, she'll be there to lend her some strength, and carry some of the heavy burden lining Nora's shoulders.</p><p>
  <em>(You have me.)</em>
</p><p>And then she'll probably order them a pizza, or do Nora's homework for her, even if it's a subject she's not enrolled in. Like she does with their other friends, when they're having their own stormy days.</p><p>Because Eva is kind, and loyal, and fiery. She's loud but knows when to be quiet. She's quiet, but knows when someone she loves needs her to be loud.</p><p>She's Nora's friend first, before she's anything else, which is comforting.</p><p>
  <em>(You have me.)</em>
</p><p>Maybe Nora doesn't need new and exciting. Maybe love isn't always like that, anyways. It can still be good when it isn't: when Eva snuggles in close, Nora doesn't feel the same wondrous sparks she did when Alejandro and Miquel did the same.</p><p>Instead, it feels familiar. Like putting on an old cardigan you loved during childhood. </p><p>Alejandro would've made the cardigan, knitted it by hand. It wouldn't have been perfect, the colors probably clashing, but it would've kept her warm.</p><p>Miquel would've bought the cardigan, flashed his money around to get the most expensive one available. If she wore it in the rain, Nora would be chilled to the bone.</p><p>But Eva — </p><p>
  <em>(You have me.)</em>
</p><p>Eva is the cardigan, maybe. Nora's not exactly sure - she's <em>not </em>good with metaphors, or recognizing what's right in front of her sometimes.</p><p>But she doesn't need to be. Not here, not with Eva, who's looking at her with stars in her eyes, and has a hand around Nora's bicep, squeezing gently.</p><p>
  <em>(You have me.)</em>
</p><p>"You'd take care of him?"</p><p>"I'll take care of him," Eva says, a smile never leaving her face. "And then I'll take care of you."</p><p>
  <em>(That's enough.)<br/><br/></em>
</p><hr/><p><br/>Here is what sixteen year old Nora would've found, had she typed the word 'bisexual' into Google and hit enter:</p><p>
  <em>I am drawn to particular people — regardless of gender. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It doesn’t make me wishy-washy, confused, untrustworthy or more sexually liberated. It makes me bisexual.<br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bisexuality can be limitless.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the midst of whatever hardships we [bisexuals] had encountered...we worked with each other to preserve our gift of loving people.<br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am bisexual because I am drawn to people regardless of gender.<br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am bisexual, and it is beautiful.<br/><br/></em>
</p><hr/><p><br/>When her parents leave on a joint business trip, Nora orders two flags off Amazon. She clicks the Express Shipping button.</p><p>The package arrives two days later. Nora unfolds the pieces of fabric from the box, carries them to her room.</p><p>She pins the first one — the three-striped one — above her bed. The other, with six stripes, hangs on her cupboard door.</p><p>She doesn't invite the girls over that week, and when they video chat, she sits in the living room.</p><p>Before she falls asleep each night, she looks up and smiles. Her dreams are an explosion of color, filled with warmth and belonging.</p><p>She takes them down the morning her parents are due to return.</p><p>The dreams, however, stay.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>June rolls around, and with it comes Pride Month. They all go to the local march. </p><p>Everyone except Alejandro, who is off washing dishes in London. They talked on FaceTime yesterday, and Nora had quietly put an end to their romance, confirming that their <em>moment </em>will probably have to occur in another lifetime.</p><p>"Can we still talk?" he'd asked, but before she could reply, he'd opened his mouth again. "I don't want to...<em>win you back</em>." His terrible English accent draws a laugh out of her. "I like being your friend, Nora."</p><p>Something catches in her throat. It's not regret, not exactly, but it's bittersweet. She swallows it down.</p><p>"Of course. But not tomorrow, okay? We're going to Pride, and we'll busy all day. So will you, Mr. Can-I-Take-A-Break-Sir."</p><p>Alejandro laughs warmly, running a hand through his hair. Nora will miss doing that, she won't lie.</p><p>After they'd signed off, he sent her three emojis: a pink heart, a purple heart, a blue heart. <em>Wave a flag for me :) </em>was the message that quickly followed.</p><p>She does, but it's not just for Alejandro. It's for her, too. She doesn't announce that, however, until — </p><p>"Girls," Viri says, her voice rising in pitch like it does when she's nervous and/or passionate about something. "Girls, I have something to tell you."</p><p>Everyone turns to face her. The first half of the march is over, and they're waiting on the grassy hill near the road for the second to start. Everyone's decked out in various rainbow attire, and they're passing water bottles back and forth to stave off the heat. Joana fans Cris with her hands, who declares it the greatest act of romance in history. </p><p>"Girls," Viri says again. "I think — I think I might be a lesbian."</p><p>There's a quiet moment, before Hugo - wearing a rainbow bandana around his neck - lifts Viri up into the air, and starts rapping a song that Nora thinks is called <em>My Ex-Girlfriend Is Gay And That's Okay.</em></p><p>"Aye!" calls Cris, and the rest of the group bursts into happy cheer. Lucas immediately begins trying to paint pink and white stripes on Viri's face, but she's smiling so hard they get smudged, and Joana steps in to offer a "real artist's touch".</p><p>Nora hangs back whilst everyone crowds around Viri. She's - she's <em>so </em>happy for Viri, she really is. Being here today, surrounded by so much sheer happiness and pure pride, is overwhelming in the best way possible, and Nora wants to soak in it forever.</p><p>Amira must notice her absence amongst all the laughter. She walks over to where Nora stands, gently bumps their shoulders together.</p><p>"You okay?"</p><p>And Nora, who has always found strength in her friends, who walked away from Miquel partly because he tried to sever that bond between them all, finds herself recalling that feeling, and nods. She is okay, and she's — </p><p>"I'm bisexual," she says.</p><p>Amira immediately brightens. Her hijab is, of course, also rainbow-colored, and there's a bright blue lip print on her cheek from Cris. Amira takes Nora's hands into her own, squeezing them, and Nora leans in to kiss her forehead, leaving behind a pinky-red print.</p><p>"I also have something to tell you," Amira says after a minute of comfortable silence. <em>"I'm</em> bisexual."</p><p>Her smile is brilliant, and Nora again won't lie: the distant remnants of an old crush stir in her stomach when she sees it.</p><p>"I know," Nora laughs, because Amira coming out a month ago had been the highlight of everyone's week. "You're missing a color." She points her chin towards the colors on Amira's face, the free space on her other cheek.</p><p>Amira's laughter rivals her smile. "Buy Elena some purple lipstick, and then we'll talk."<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>She tells the rest of the group later that night. They're hanging out at Eva's place; some of them drunk from the cheap beer the boys brought along, some of them just buzzing on light and love and sunshine. </p><p>Nora is the latter, but Eva is the former, which she discovers when Eva stumbles out into the backyard too.</p><p>She's been sitting there for a while, needing some fresh air after coming out. Everyone had, predictably, taken it incredibly well.</p><p>(Except for Hugo, but only because he couldn't find any words to rhyme with "My Gay Ex-Girlfriend's Friend Is Also Bisexual, And That's Okay".)</p><p>(Lucas was also mildly miffed, because Cris had accidentally thrown out his face-painting kit earlier, and Nora had denied him using lipstick on her cheeks.)</p><p>Eva had gone quiet, however. Amira hadn't noticed this time, too caught up in her own girlfriend, and everyone else was calling for another round of karaoke to celebrate her announcement. Nora had begged off — it was <em>her </em>announcement, after all, which meant she'd earned the right to decide how they should celebrate it, and the gang had been pretty agreeable to that. She can still hear Cris and Jorge's duet, even through the layers of brick and glass.</p><p>Nora looks up when she hears the back door open, and watches as Eva walks over. She doesn't look steady, and Nora's about to jump up to help her when Eva waves her off. She drops down onto the grass next to Nora, who thinks she looks like one of those snow-angels, except if the snow-angel was lying on dewy grass, and they weren't made of snow but skin and blood and bone — </p><p><em>— And</em> silky brown hair that Nora wants to run her fingers through.</p><p>She does. Eva hums.</p><p>(Nora isn't drunk, but she <em>is</em> a bit loopy after all the excitement today, and she's never been good at her metaphors, her comparisons.)</p><p><em>(I don't need to be anything</em>, she remembers again, biting her lip when Eva lifts herself up to lie on Nora's lap. <em>I can just have this.</em>)</p><p>Eventually, Eva demands that Nora sings for her since they're missing out on the karaoke inside.</p><p>"You can go back in, if you want."</p><p>"Nah," Eva says, smiling into the denim of Nora's shorts. "This is where I wanna be."<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>She does sing for Eva, in the end. At first, it's just pop music: Billie Eilish, Harry Styles, Hozier.</p><p>It turns a little more indie after that. Nora's not sure whether Eva knows these artists, but she happily nods along anyways. Nora sweeps her hand through Eva's fringe as she does, gently tapping out beats on her scalp. Eva burrows into Nora further, content.</p><p>When Nora thinks Eva's drifted off to sleep, her humming pretty much non-existent, she starts singing an original song.</p><p>It's something she's been writing for a while. She began when she first met the girls, has taken out bits when they've fought and added them back in after they've reconciled.</p><p>It was angrier when Jorge and Eva broke up before giving way to a quieter, sadder, emotion. Yearning, maybe. The style massively shifted again when she was with Alejandro, then with Miquel; in the time since she left him on that street corner, she's struggled with articulating her thoughts, transforming them into coherent lyrics.</p><p>That's changed recently, of course. She's got three muses now. Herself, the girls, and — </p><p>Nora sings and sings and sings until her voice is no more. Then she carries Eva inside.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>"I liked that song you sang last night," Eva says quietly, the next morning.</p><p>Nora smiles, but doesn't yet speak. Her throat hurts a little, so she's added an extra swirl of honey to her mug of tea.</p><p>Amira and Dounia left together last night; Nora woke up to a goodbye text and a selfie of Spain's most fashionable couple. Jorge, Hugo and Dilan are all outside, the latter two singing along as the former strums his guitar. It's terribly offkey, and Nora thinks it might be the best thing she's ever heard. Viri's still passed out upstairs. When Nora last checked in on her, she was drooling into a pillow whose fabric was stained with pastel paints. Nora wiped her mouth and added another blanket before she came down here.</p><p>Cris and Joana met her in the living room, the two of them talking softly as they lay on the couch. Lucas sat in the chair opposite, scrolling on his phone, sipping his coffee. He'd offered her a sip too — <em>free of charge for bicons</em>, he'd said, which got a rise out of Cris, because he'd apparently told her earlier to fuck off and get her own. </p><p>Eva was already in the kitchen when Nora walked in.</p><p>They're making pancakes for everyone; or, rather, Eva's making pancakes for everyone, whilst Nora collects the syrup and sugar and diligently chops up pieces of fruit.</p><p>"I have a question about it, though," Eva starts, her back to Nora as she scrapes a burnt pancake onto a plate.</p><p>"Mmm?"</p><p>Nora's so focused on slicing an orange — she refuses to anticipate what comes next, has to do something with her hands before they shake — that she doesn't notice Eva come up behind her.</p><p>"How does it end?" Eva's voice is raspy this early in the morning, and whilst the outside sun isn't yet bright, it nonetheless illuminates her eyes when Nora spins around.</p><p>"It doesn't," Nora replies. Her own voice is rough-sounding, raw, but Eva's smile is blinding as she hears it.</p><p>"Good," Eva leans in closer, until she's whispering. "Did you know, Nora Grace, that I'm bi too?"</p><p>And no, Nora did <em>not</em> know that. She suspected for a while, but also sort of figured that was merely wishful thinking. Eva jumped in when Lucas got punched, but so did everyone else. The things she'd said on his channel, too: it all screamed straight ally, and Nora knows you can't judge a book by its cover, she knows confusion and the closest, she <em>knows. </em></p><p>But Nora also knows that sometimes you don't get your fairy-tale ending.</p><p><em>(And sometimes,</em> Nora realizes as her eyes dart around to the living room, as her ears pick up on singing and snoring, <em>you already have it.)</em></p><p>So she meets Eva halfway, the tips of their noses touching.</p><p>"No, Eva Vázquez Villanueva, I was not aware of that."</p><p>"Well, now you are," Eva says knowingly. Then, immediately: "Can I kiss you?"<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Kissing Alejandro was cinematic by nature. There was curly hair to bury your fingers in, and a radiating warmth that went from head to toe as his hands drifted down your back, yours joining around his neck. </p><p>Kissing Miquel was at first also cinematic, but in an incredibly forced way. There were gifts and outings, expensive and flashy; any time you left your house an opportunity to show off. His breath was almost always uncomfortably minty.</p><p>Kissing Eva is soft and sweet. It's realizing that there's no perfect, cinematic moment. That sometimes not having one is cinematic in itself, because it's everything you need.</p><p>It's honey tea, the crisp edge of a pancake left on the stove for too long, and sticky orange juice trailing down your chin.</p><p>It's your friends yelling when they see you, squawks of "what the fuck" and "knew it!" and "we love you" echoing through the halls.</p><p>It's gentle sunlight, group singalongs, a guitar that's seen better days, and losing your voice as its own love language.</p><p>It's going home, and realizing words like that can have more than one meaning.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>She likes boys. She likes men.</p><p>She likes girls. She likes <em>a </em>girl.</p><p>She likes people.</p><p>She likes — <br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>A sleepy Saturday, two weeks later. They stayed up late the night before, swapping their usual ice-cream tubs for celery and carrot sticks as they watched a slasher film that had even Eva frequently ducking into Nora's shoulder.</p><p>Nora acted like she wasn't scared, but afterwards, when the wind suddenly slammed a door shut, they both screamed and grasped for the other.</p><p>There was a fit of laughter that seemingly lasted until they'd drifted off. Nora fell asleep feeling younger than she had in years. It's how she often feels around Eva: light, youthful, free, but steady in the knowledge that this is a serious thing, too. She can, it turns out, have the best of both worlds.</p><p>The last things she'd seen before falling asleep was the crinkle of Eva's eyes as she quickly closed them, pretending she hadn't just been staring at her girlfriend.</p><p><em>Edward Cullen</em>, is what Nora had called her when they woke. Eva gently bit her shoulder in retaliation.</p><p>(Her eyes don't flick up to the flag anymore, but she feels its presence all the same.)</p><p>Now, Nora picks up a tube of lipstick, the one Cris bought her. There's nothing on today's agenda that even involves leaving her room, but that hasn't stopped her before from wearing it around the house.</p><p>"You're strong, with or without it," Eva says, circling her arms around Nora from behind. Nora didn't hear her come in, but it figures: she looks down at her watch and realizes just how long she's been standing in front of the mirror, conflicted. "You're the strongest person I know."</p><p>
  <em>(Well, I'm telling you. If Viri is Mallorca, you are March 8th.)<br/></em>
</p><p>Nora deliberates for a second, and decides that she's wasted enough time on this. There are more important things to do: movies to watch, snacks to eat, girlfriends to kiss — </p><p>—  Mirrors to scribble on. It's all she'll use this one for, she thinks. Positive affirmations, political messages; she'll do it all — and more — with this. </p><p>Her strength has never been in what she wears on her face. Her strength comes from inside: her beliefs, her conviction. What she fights, and who she cares for.</p><p>The bathroom door closes, the tube left behind, and when Eva kisses her, it tastes a lot like everything lost has been found and reclaimed again.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>She <strike>likes<br/><br/></strike></p><hr/><p><br/>Nora loves Eva.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Eva loves her, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>alternative title for this fic: a love letter to bisexual women and pre-s4 eskam</p><p>the quotes about bisexuality that nora finds on google come from <a href="https://rat-bisexual.tumblr.com/post/624570716053995520/a-lot-of-bisexual-history-has-been-erased-so-i">here</a>.</p><p>(i also realize that sometimes you write things and it makes sense to you, the author, but not the audience so to clarify: nora hears about feminism when she's twelve, she claims that label, but it's a very neoliberal kind of feminism etc. in my canon, it's not until everything happens with miquel/emma that she realizes feminism goes beyond #girlboss politics. i like that eskam have the only niko confrontation with a noora who isn't wearing makeup &amp; looks exhausted - it's a lot less polished and 'iconic' - and i wanted to expand on the idea of nora feeling like her femininity is a weapon: i think a lot of 'eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man' rhetoric is...terrible lmao, and i wanted nora to come to not be afraid of 'ugliness', so to speak. that her voice matters even when she's not being hyper-feminine.)</p><p>(i also think it's annoying, although not ooc, for nora to do her mirror-writing instead of confronting the racists in s4 directly; i just wanted to write how she got to the mirror-writing in the first place, but i like to think she learns and grows from that too. she does mention that feminism's a constant process, so fingers crossed.)</p><p>let me know your thoughts! 🤲🤲🤲</p></blockquote></div></div>
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